Elizabeth pounded on the carriage walls and yelled. The driver did not stop. She dared not open the door and jump out as they were moving at a high rate of speed. And she knew not where she was, but that it was the opposite direction of Longbourn.
She did not know why they had kidnapped her. Or by whom. It had pulled up next to her in Meryton and a servant jumped out and told Elizabeth to get in quickly, as Mr. Bennet had had a horrible accident. She did not question the woman who she did not recognize. Any neighbor of Longbourn could have sent someone to fetch her. She climbed into the carriage immediately and it took off before her maid could climb in.
They had covered the windows on the outside; she did not know where she was and what route they had traveled. She had had plenty of time to calm down and think rationally. Elizabeth thought over an hour had passed and not once had the driver stopped to change horses. The kidnapper had to be someone that knew her, as she had been walking the country paths that ran north, away from London. They were less traveled, which was why she walked along them.
She had not thought of anyone that would want to kidnap her. Everyone in Meryton knew her dowry was small, and her family was not wealthy. Why would anybody have planned to abduct to her? Elizabeth had not come up with any reason that made sense, and so she resigned herself to wait, but she would take the first opportunity to run when it presented itself.
The carriage slowed again, and she was sure they were traveling over bad road just like the several times before when she had sat near the door waiting for them to stop so she could jump out. But things were different. There were sounds of men laughing and talking, horses whinnying and wheels crunching over gravel. Was she in London?
The noise lessened, and then they slowed and stopped. Before she could open the door, it opened from the outside by Mr. Wickham. Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief. There could be nothing nefarious taking place at all, as he was a gentleman. And yet, she could not forget how she had screamed and banged on the walls, and how they had traveled. Far longer than it would have taken to reach Longbourn.
Mr. Wickham helped her climb down. “I am so relieved to see a friendly face. I have been abducted from Meryton. You must help me!”
“It is so good to see you again.” He smiled broadly.
A sense of unease settled over her, but she dismissed it. She was thankful to see someone that could help her. “Where are we? A servant told me Papa had suffered a horrible accident and that I must go to him, but this is not Longbourn.”
Her handsome acquaintance patted her hand, with a smile that had changed, causing her to frown. He gripped her elbow, then led her through the doorway at the back of a building. He had not answered her question, but perhaps he was preparing her for bad news about her father. Could this be a hospital in London?
They walked down a darkened hallway, and then she had her first glimpse of her surroundings.
“Oh, oh no!”
Mr. Wickham chuckled, but Elizabeth barely noticed as she stood stock still and stared at the room before her. It could have been any respectable home. Indeed, the furniture was of a higher quality than Longbourn. But the women dressed in corsets and drawers walking, and sitting on the well dressed members of the ton drew her gaze. They were even wearing makeup like an actress. She stilled and gasped. This had to be a bawdy house.
Immediately she turned to run out of the building, but he did not let go of her elbow. His fingers dug into her arm so tightly it hurt. “Mr. Wickham, we have to leave!”
Elizabeth could not understand why he had escorted her into this house of ill repute. It was never an establishment a gentlewoman should enter. He had to have known what business was here. She was confused, but her questions could wait until she was out and far away. But his fingers still dug into her skin. “Stop! Let go of me!”
He pulled her further into the room to the bottom of a staircase that led to the upper floor.
“We must leave, please, Mr. Wickham. I must go! Papa is injured and I need to go to him!”
Slowly, the laughter and jeers of the men in the room penetrated her panicked mind. They were looking at her as they said lewd things to each other, as if she were a prostitute. She again struggled to pull away from him.
“Stop. Please let go. Please take me back home.”
Wickham still held her fast as he smirked and laughed. “Such a pretty girl with a fiery temper, just the way I like them.”
Elizabeth’s anger got the better of her and she stomped on Mr. Wickham’s foot as hard as she could. He howled in pain and squeezed her elbow even tighter. She found it difficult to breathe as he dragged her up the stairs and into a room, slamming the door after them. She looked around the room for an escape. A small bed with a worn red bedspread, nightstand, plain wooden chair and fireplace was all she saw. There was no window. The only way out was the one to the hallway that Mr. Wickham stood in front of.
She clenched her fists as she faced him. “What are you doing? This, this is a brothel!”
“I did not think young women of such good standing knew of places such as this?” He smirked.
Elizabeth felt sick. It could not be true, he could not…”You must help me, Mr. Wickham. Papa has been injured and I have to see him! We must leave this place!”
The smug man walked to the fireplace and leaned against the mantle. “I thought you were more intelligent than this, Miss Bennet. Is it not obvious that your father is not ill in any manner?” He smiled at her as if he was a benefactor, explaining his boon to a child. “I am helping you make your way in the world. You have a paltry dowry. None of your sisters are married and your family is too poor to give you a season in town. With my intervention you will no longer be a burden to your relatives.”
She could not catch her breath or stop her hands from shaking. Elizabeth stepped back and bumped against the wall. Her head ached. As she searched around for anything to use to keep him away, she rubbed her forehead. There was nothing she could throw at him.
Elizabeth flinched at the sound downstairs of a woman’s squeal, followed by a roar of laughter. At Wickham’s chuckle, she studied the man she had once thought of as a suitor. The dancing shadows from the fire turned his handsome face into a leering specter. She would run, but she had no escape as Wickham stood in front of the door.
“Do not worry, I am, after all, still a gentleman,” said the scoundrel. “I am quite sure that this will not come to any unpleasantness. Here, have a seat on the bed. You are probably thirsty after your travel.”
Mr. Wickham poured a generous amount of wine into a goblet and held it out to her.
“No, thank you.” She leveled a hard stare upon the cad. “Why have you done this?”
He shrugged and drank deeply before wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “In all good time, my dear. In all good time.”
His perusal of her body felt like an ugly stain.
“Are you going to continue to stand there against the wall? You would be more comfortable in the bed.”
His false geniality turned her stomach. “I thought you were a gentleman. Why have you done this?”
Mr. Wickham smiled at her, but it was not the smile she had grown fond of. No, this one was not quite pleasant. “Oh Elizabeth, truly you have not determined your future?”
She glared. “I have not given you leave to call me by my first name.”
Another roar from downstairs drowned Mr. Wickham’s laugh. “There is no need for that sort of formality here.” He grinned and drank more wine, emptying the goblet. “Now, my dear, there are no last names here. As a matter of fact, you can even choose to go by another moniker if you would like? I will even let you select your stage name.”
She did not know what he meant. But she would not ask. Never would she show the slightest interest in anything regarding him. Instead, she glared until the reprobate sighed.
“I thought you would be more sporting. Perhaps you will when Mr. Darcy arrives.”
Elizabeth froze. “Mr. Darcy? Is he behind this?”
Mr. Wickham guffawed. “Oh, that is a good one indeed. That is the story I shall tell in Meryton when I hear the news of your disappearance.”
He turned to the small night table and refilled his goblet from the wine decanter, which had to be nearly empty by now. Elizabeth swallowed. She did not believe at all that Mr. Darcy was arriving. Nothing out of Wickham’s mouth could be trusted. How had she been so wrong about his character?
She looked around the room again without seeing. What would she do? How would she escape this horrible situation? She did not want to think of what Wickham had said, that he was helping her make her way. Did he truly plan to… no, she would not even consider that.
“You must let me go.” She leaned forward. “Please send me on the carriage to Meryton and I will tell no one of your involvement. My parents, my sisters have to be frightfully worried about my absence.”
“You see, Elizabeth,” Wickham smiled as he turned around holding a refilled goblet. “It is out of my hands now. Mr. Darcy has something I want, and it depends on him what shall happen next. Either he comes through for me or…”
He leered at her as he sauntered towards her. “I will get my money another way.”
